


Selcouth

by phantom_wired



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantom_wired/pseuds/phantom_wired
Summary: Selcouth- unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful.Sasori muses over a sleeping Hidan.





	Selcouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/gifts).



> Another piece for the drabble requests! Tried to keep this one short and sweet~

Rain gently fell on the gabled roof, soft staccato notes creating a wash of white noise. It was early morning, the sky still dark. Sasori lit his lantern and the orange glow illuminated his face, casting harsh shadows against his inhumanly smooth features. The light reflected in his eyes, turning them to glass.

He stood and carried the lantern low, using it to navigate the dark halls of the hideout. His feet, though bare, made an unusual click against the wooden floors. He did not move quietly. Stealth wasn’t exactly a puppet master’s forte, and he never needed it anyway. Not when he could have an army at his fingertips.

He slid open a door and hesitated in the entrance. He watched the sleeping lump on the floor, and if he had been a being who breathed, he would have held it in his lungs. He would have held it until his face was blue for the amount of time he stood there. He thought about stealth then, and how he wished now that perhaps he could employ it. But every movement he made created noise. A hard footstep, a creaking joint, the slide of fabric over an artificial frame.

He stepped slowly into the room and shut the door behind him. Crossing over to the futon, he expected Hidan to be sprawled out, drool stains on his pillow. What he found was Hidan curled on his side, blanket just drawn over his waist. His arms were almost corpse-like, crossed over his chest.

He had always considered Hidan sloppy and uncouth, but he had learned a few things about the young immortal after their temporary partnership. Uncouth was a given. But Sasori was rather surprised to find Hidan to be quite neat. He barely had any belongings, and those he saw fit to carry were sealed away in a scroll, only taken out when he needed them. He ate quietly and cleaned up after himself. Indeed, the only mess Hidan seemed to make came out of his mouth. Sasori was old for a shinobi, and he had seen and heard some things in his time. But some of the filth that came from that boy’s lips shocked even him.

Sasori raised the lantern, orange flames of light licking Hidan’s skin. His silver hair was washed in apricot. Usually loud and grossly irritating, the youth now lay in quiet serenity, his breaths coming soft, lips gently pressed together. Confusion tied Sasori’s insides into a knot. He clenched his petrified jaw, memories of the previous day flooding his mind as he looked over the sleeping man.

It was the first time he had seen one of the Jashinist’s infamous rituals. He remembered every scorching detail. Hidan unhinged, shrieking and laughing like a madman. The sunlight reflecting off of the blade in his hand. He remembered hearing Kakuzu complain of how lengthy Hidan’s process was. But to him, it was over in a flash. Everything had gone quiet and cold. Blood, tears, dirt. Hidan’s face was threaded into fury, but as metal sank into his flesh, each line detangled itself into bliss.

When it was all over, Sasori felt uncomfortable, as if he had witnessed something that was meant to be kept private. Everything about it was electric and intimate. It was so disgustingly, beautifully human. Hidan had felt with that man and died with that man, in a sickeningly non-consensual way. But to the sacrifice, he watched Hidan fall to the ground with him. Watched him bleed with him. He would go to the afterlife alone, but he had the false comfort that he was being accompanied. Hidan peeled himself off the ground, trembling and soaked with blood. Silent. The man would never get up again.

It was devastating. Lovely. The suna nin was shaken.

And he was frustrated.

He knelt beside Hidan’s bed, his eyes catching on the rippling pink scars snaking over amber dyed skin. Hidan was immortal. Everlasting. Transcendent. Eternal. He was everything Sasori valued. A thought tore through his mind. He imagined opening Hidan’s skull, stirring up his brains, tickling his nerves. A tweak here, a tweak there. Make him obedient. Make him loyal. Cut out his tongue.

He would be art perfected. A true human puppet. One that would live on into antiquity with the rest of his collection. Only he would be soft. He would breathe. He would bleed.

Sasori touched his shoulder. The flesh gave way beneath his cold, hard fingers. He couldn’t feel his softness or his warmth. He couldn’t feel anything, and for a moment he felt angry. Angry from the stew of emotions bubbling over the black cauldron of his heart. Inside, he was an emerald beast choking on envy. If anyone was to achieve such perfection, it should have been him. 

He looked up to find Hidan’s eyes on him. He wasn’t startled. Rather, he expected his tough to have roused Hidan. Kakuzu warned that his partner was a light sleeper. He allowed himself to be trapped beneath that smoldering, crushed rose gaze. Hidan did not look pleased, a pulsating distaste ebbing from his visage.

“I didn’t take you for the type,” he spoke, sleep turning his voice to gravel.

“I’m not. We have to leave.” Sasori stood, his expression smoothed into stone.

Hidan seemed to ease once Sasori was no longer touching him. He gave an annoyed sigh heaved up from his bed. The elder turned and left his room without another word. He let his eyes slide shut and allowed the sound of the rain to drown out the ghosts of his thoughts, the haunting images of a crimson bathed Hidan. It was all just a passing fancy. He would be returning him tomorrow.


End file.
